


Already Perfect

by toesalignedarch



Category: The Dragon Prince (Cartoon)
Genre: (ha bet you didn't see that coming), Established Relationship, Ethari's trying his damn hardest, Fluff, M/M, Runaan is very smooth, Wedding Preparations, background Tiadrin/Lain, domestic Ruthari
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-17
Updated: 2020-01-17
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:46:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22285057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toesalignedarch/pseuds/toesalignedarch
Summary: Ethari bites out a laugh. “Stressed?” he scoffs. “What are you on about, Runaan, I’m not stressed—““You’re trying to put your foot into my spare quiver.”“Oh.” Ethari blinks down at empty quiver that’s being stretched over his toes. “Huh. No wonder it didn’t feel right.”(or, Runaan returns from a successful solo mission and is greeted with chaos)
Relationships: Ethari/Runaan (The Dragon Prince), Runaan/Ethari
Comments: 6
Kudos: 183





	Already Perfect

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by the following tumblr prompt:
> 
> A: Don’t stress about it  
> B: What are you talking about? I’m not stressing about anything  
> A: You’re not fooling me, you’re practically falling apart  
> (@ notyouraveragewritingprompts)

On his way back to the Silvergrove, Runaan stops by the side of the path to pick a few stems of small white wildflowers and tucks them carefully into the folds of his traveling cloak. Once he’s done, he looks around to make sure no one has seen him do such a silly task; thankfully the path is deserted and he’s able to maintain his dignity. Runaan makes sure the flowers aren’t visible to any future elves he might run into—the last thing he wants is for someone to get the impression that he’s _soft_ , Moon forbid—and continues walking.

He doesn’t care for flowers, but he knows Ethari does.

They’re simple flowers, the ones now being jostled in his clothes, but he hopes the gesture is enough to reassure his betrothed that Runaan is always thinking of him, even before and after his missions. (Never during; he can’t afford to get distracted during them). He can’t wait to see Ethari’s face when he presents him with the flowers—will he blush? Will he smile? Both? The image of his delighted beloved alone spurs Runaan into walking a bit faster; it’s been almost a week since he first left the Silvergrove.

Ethari had sent him off with a firm kiss and a tentative smile. “Be careful, my heart,” the smith had said as he watched Runaan pack up his bags. Runaan had promised that he would be, made Ethari promise that he, in return, wouldn’t work too hard, and let the illusion of the Silvergrove fade away, leaving him alone in the forest with the imprint of Ethari’s anxious but determined look in his memory.

When Runaan was presented with the solo mission—nothing dangerous, just to scout a party of Tidebound elves who were suspiciously far away from any large bodies of water—he’d originally turned down the opportunity. For once, he had other things to do that he was prioritizing for his own sake, and for Ethari’s sanity. Except when he told Ethari about it, his partner had forced him to walk out the door right then and there and ask for it back, because “I agreed to marry you knowing your profession, Moon forbid you give this up just for wedding preparations.”

That’s right— _wedding preparations_.

Runaan had never imagined he would be bogged down with the details of planning a ceremony like this, but apparently when the leader of the assassins and the grove’s beloved smith get engaged, the entire village makes a rather big deal out of it. Right before he left, Ethari had promised him that he could oversee the rest of the planning (“Tiadrin and Lain will be here too,” Ethari reminded him. “I’m sure they’ll help, and if they don’t want to I’ll make them.”) and had assured him that he would have everything under control. And Runaan, who knew how diligent and hardworking and detail-oriented Ethari tended to be, believed him.

Now, he’s not so sure.

Runaan has already performed the ritual to enter the Silvergrove, and he's only ten paces away from the home he shares with Ethari when a loud crash echoes from within. It's loud enough that Runaan can hear every residual tinkling of breaking glass and the quiet, "Moon above" that his beloved hisses when the din dies down. Startled, Runaan runs the last few steps to the door and throws it open.

There's no other word to describe it: it's chaos. His usually tidy home is covered with shards of glass, scraps of metal, and rolls of paper. Their table, which usually only houses their plates, bowls, and cups, is littered with notes and what looks like samples of cloth, as well as an array of scattered objects like spare buttons, a swatch of leather, and a single silver dagger that’s sticking upright as if someone had stuck it point-first into their table to end an argument. Amid all of it is Ethari, who’s looking… disheveled isn’t the right word for it—as far as Runaan is concerned, his beloved is never disheveled. His hair is frizzy and unbrushed, his clothes wrinkled like he slept in them, there’s a large patch of what Runaan believes is ash on his forearms, and there are small cuts on his legs, but he’s never looked more perfect to Runaan. When the door bursts open, Ethari lets out a small yelp and jumps around, only to wince as he steps in more glass.

“Runaan,” he gasps. 

Without a word, Runaan steps to him—thank the Moon for his assassin grade boots—and, after shoving aside a heap of papers, helps him settle into a nearby chair. Before Ethari can thank him, he’s on his kneeling on the ground with Ethari’s feet on his thighs to pick out the larger shards.

“If I didn’t know better I’d think you were proposing to me again,” Ethari tells him with an uncharacteristic giggle. 

Runaan gives him a look. “Are you okay, my love?”

“Couldn’t be better,” Ethari says with a brave smile. But Runaan only has to raise an eyebrow at the explosion in the middle of their home before Ethari sighs and his smile turns sheepish. “In my haste to construct a support for our ceremonial candles, I _may_ have forgotten to actually weld the pieces together before putting candle holders on them.”

“Oh, love,” Runaan sighs. “I knew I shouldn’t have left. I’m so sorry to leave you to these things alone—“

“I wasn’t alone,” Ethari insists. “Tiadrin and Lain helped. Well, they tried to help. And no, moonlight, you needed to go on that mission. How was it, by the way?”

“Fine. The Tidebound elves were rather benign, to be truthful. I followed them for a few days but they only sketched wildlife and land-based flora and fauna before they turned back. Seemed to be a party of scholars, that group.”

Ethari hums and winces when Runaan manages to pry a particularly stubborn shard of glass from his heel. “Good, good,” the smith says distantly. “Are you done? I need to get to the forge.”

“The forge?” Runaan frowns and motions for him to remain seated, as he can still see some smaller pieces stuck on the sides of Ethari’s foot. Using his bowblade to extend his reach, Runaan grabs his pack and digs through it to find his dagger.

“I’m meeting with someone there to go over how we plan to use the space we have. And after that I need to check on how the adjustments to our garments are going, and once that’s done I have to come back here and sort out the floral arrangements,” Ethari says, and judging by the tone of voice it’s clear that he’s reciting this from some memorized calendar. He shouldn’t find it endearing, but he does—the image of Ethari staring intently at a scribbled schedule and memorizing each entry is as amusing as it is precious.

And then it hits him how stressed Ethari must be, if he actually resorted to memorizing an itinerary and, most shocking of all, actually following it. The Ethari he fell in love with is carefree and full of ideas, always pausing one thing to start another; this Ethari, who’s getting antsy like he wants to get going before all the glass is removed from him, scares Runaan just a little bit. Now that he’s closer, Runaan can see the redness in the dark bags under Ethari’s brilliant eyes. Even the twinkle that he so often looked for was duller—just a bit, but it still hurt him to see it all the same. 

When he’s finally extracted all the glass that he can, Runaan pats Ethari’s feet to let him know he’s done. He watches as Ethari stands up on shaky legs and heads to the door, careful to avoid stepping on anything other than the floor. Runaan climbs gracefully to his feet and sweeps Ethari into his arms to cross a particularly dangerous section of the room. Ethari tries to protest, but Runaan won’t hear any of it.

“My love,” he says firmly when Ethari opens his mouth to complain.” I’m back now. Let me help you.”

“No, no,” Ethari says, despite relaxing into his beloved’s arms. “You just got back from a mission. You need to rest.”

“It wasn’t a hard one. And if any of us needs to sleep, I think it’s you.”

Ethari frowns. “I can do this, Runaan.”

Runaan sets him down gently by the front door. “I know you can, Ethari. But just because you can doesn’t mean you should.” He strokes Ethari’s hair as he bends down to put on his boots. “It’s all going to work out, moonlight. I’m back and I’m going to help; you don’t need to stress about it anymore.”

Ethari bites out a laugh. “Stressed?” he scoffs. “What are you on about, Runaan, I’m not stressed—“

“You’re trying to put your foot into my spare quiver.”

“Oh.” Ethari blinks down at empty quiver that’s being stretched over his toes. “Huh. No wonder it didn’t feel right.”

Runaan sighs and helps him detach the quiver from his body. Once Runaan puts the warped quiver away—far away, so Ethari can’t try to put anything else into it—Ethari sits and puts his head in his hands. Runaan squats next to him and puts an arm around him. “You’ve been working too hard, love.”

“I just want our wedding to be perfect,” Ethari murmurs through his hands.

“It’s already perfect, because you’ll be there,” Runaan says, and he means it. 

Ethari begrudgingly looks up and rolls his eyes affectionately at his betrothed. “Very smooth, my love,” he says, but it comes with the smallest of smiles so how can Runaan complain? 

“I’m serious. Ethari, everything else is just formality. As long as you’re there, and you complete our dance with me, that’s all I could ever need.”

He’s knocked to the ground and swept into a tight hug before he can really do anything else, Ethari’s arms wrapped around his neck and his legs around his waist. His senses are filled with familiarity and as he breathes in the scent of his beloved, he finally lets himself relax.

“I’ve missed you so much,” Ethari whispers into his ear.

“And I you,” he whispers back.

They stay in the embrace for a few moments, letting the events of the past week catch up to them. He feels Ethari let out a breath so deep it scares him for the briefest moment. How much had he been holding in, to have finally expelled a breath so charged?

“Oh, for the love of the Moon,” Runaan mutters, peeling his chest from Ethari’s. He lets his partner stay in his lap though, for he can’t bear to be home and not touch his beloved.

“Runaan?”

He reaches into his cloak and pulls out the batch of white wildflowers he’d so carefully tucked away. They’re a bit trampled now, the delicate petals bruised and folded where they had been pressed between the two elves. “I saw these along the side of the road on my way back,” he says. He places half of the flowers in Ethari’s hand, and intertwines the other half in his hair. 

The last of the tension melts from Ethari’s face, replaced with a tender gaze. “You were thinking of me,” he whispers.

“I’m always thinking of you,” Runaan replies. And it’s true.

Ethari sighs and closes his eyes, letting his head rest Runaan’s shoulder. His hand wraps gently around the flowers. They exist silently together, Ethari’s breaths slowing until he’s practically meditating. When he opens his eyes again, Runaan can see the twinkle reignited. 

“I may have tried to do too much,” Ethari admits. He rolls a single petal between two fingers. “I wanted you to come home and not have to worry about anything. I was hoping I would be done by now, so that we could just… _be_ with each other before our ceremony.”

Runaan melts. He rests his cheek on the top of Ethari’s head, the turquoise jewel set in his cuffs cold against his temple. “I can’t thank you enough for taking this on by yourself—no, stop, we both know that Tiadrin and Lain’s definition of ‘help’ differs greatly from yours and mine—so let me help you now. What can I do, my love? How can I help? This is my wedding as much as it is yours.”

Ethari chuckles. He presses himself back into Runaan’s chest and sighs at the warmth and comfort he finds there. “Can you play with my hair a bit?” he asks quietly with a light blush. “It’ll help with the stress.”

“Always.” Runaan runs his fingers through Ethari’s frizzy hair, clicking his tongue when his fingers get caught in various knots. “Promise me you’ll not work yourself this much the next time I’m away,” he urges as he continues to smooth out the white locks before him.

“I don’t know what else to do when you’re gone,” Ethari mutters. His eyes have closed again, and now that most of the knots have been untangled, Runaan’s hands are lulling him to sleep. “You love your profession and I love mine; when you’re on a mission I bury myself in the forge. That’s all I can do, otherwise I’d send myself to the Moon with worry.”

“I understand,” Runaan says. They’ve been over this; Ethari knows that Runaan cares too much about his people to not lead the assassins, and the smith would never hold that against him. And yet every time he has to leave, he returns to find Ethari in some state of disarray, having either spent two days in a row in the forge without sleeping or three consecutive nights alone in their home. “At least you won’t have to plan anymore ceremonies, hm?”

He feels more than hears Ethari laugh, the twitching of his torso transferring to his own. “No more of that,” Ethari agrees. “From now on, I’ll stick just to making weapons and enchanting arrows whenever you’re gone.”

“Good. I look forward to returning from my next mission to find every space on our wall covered with knives.”

Ethari snorts. “And swords.”

“Yes, we can’t neglect the swords.”

“And arrows.”

“Arrows are a given.”

“And”—Ethari stifles a yawn so big he nearly knocks Runaan over with the intensity of it—“don’t forget daggers.”

Runaan eyes the silver dagger that’s currently stuck in the table. “Right,” he murmurs quietly. “Daggers.” He means to ask about it, but one glance at Ethari and he knows he’ll never get a coherent answer out of the elf. Instead, he gathers his beloved in his arms and carries the sleep deprived elf to their bedroom. Ethari’s half-asleep before Runaan can pull the blankets over his body.

“Wait,” Ethari mumbles. He tries to push the blankets off, but only tangles his fists in the cloth. “I’m not clean.”

Runaan eyes the patches of soot on his arms. “I can see that.”

“No, I mean I haven’t showered in…”

“I don’t want to know,” Runaan says firmly when Ethari trails off. “Sleep first, and I can help you bathe later.”

Ethari winks—rather, he tries to, but his eyelids are so heavy he ends up staring at Runaan with one eye open and one eye closed for quite a few moments before his other eye closes too. “But you hate it when the bed is dirty.”

He can’t help the smile that forms on his face. “Moonlight, don’t worry about me. We can always wash and replace the linens… but I can’t replace you.”

“Bah.” Ethari scrunches his nose. “The one time you’re so incredibly romantic and I have the sexual allure of a glowtoad.”

“I, for one, think glowtoads are rather handsome. Especially this one.” Runaan drops a kiss on his forehead. “Sleep, my love,” he whispers. “I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

Ethari yawns again and curls up into the blanket. “Promise?”

“Promise,” Runaan says, and Ethari drifts to sleep with a smile hanging from his lips.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote my first fic like a week ago and now I can't stop writing!! help :) me :)
> 
> _come say hi on[tumblr](https://toesalignedarch.tumblr.com/)!_


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